


Fluent

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry Molly Hooper, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Crushes, Embarrassed Molly Hooper, F/M, First Dates, Fluent Molly Hooper, Fluent Sebastian Moran, Fluent Sherlock Holmes, French-Speaking Molly Hooper, French-Speaking Sherlock Holmes, Happy Ending, Mentions of Sex Toys, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Molly Hooper, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Shocked Sherlock Holmes, Unrequited Crush, mentions of sexual situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 18:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17370749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Sherlock and Molly have a conversation in French about Sebastian Moran before being stopped by an interesting development.





	Fluent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dreamin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/gifts).



> This was a prompt from **writ-ing-promp-ts** that I posted ( _Person A: *talking to Person C about Person B in front of Person B in a different language* Person B: You do know I am fluent in that language, right? Person A: *panics, runs away*_ ) that I tweaked slightly that **Dreamin** asked for Sebolly for with this sti[ulation: " _Molly is A, you can decide between Sherlock and Seb who is B and who is C. :)_ "

She had no idea what on Earth Sherlock had been thinking when he suggested Sebastian stay at Baker Street while he was between flats. They weren’t even friendly! Sebastian was working off his penance for working for Jim by working for Mycroft on behalf of Queen and country, and Sherlock still side-eyed him every chance he got. So why offer to be flatmates? It had gnawed at her and finally, she just had to know.

She let herself into Baker Street, knowing Sherlock was foolish and would rather keep the door unlocked for clients but Sebastian would have insisted the door stay locked, and since she had her own key from back when she checked on Martha while Sherlock had faked his death it would be easy enough to get the drop on Sherlock and get her answers.

But luck was not on her side, she realized as she got upstairs: both Sherlock _and_ Sebastian were there, Sherlock playing violin in his dressing gown and pyjamas by the window, and Sebastian in denim trousers and a tight olive green T-shirt that looked like it might have been from his army days, sitting on a chair cleaning a gun. They seemed...peaceful. Like neither of them were bothered by the presence of the other. It was...odd.

“Sherlock, can I speak to you?” she asked, standing near the door. The violin tapered off and he turned, nodding.

“No speaking to me?” Sebastian asked, looking up and flashing her a grin. Good Lord, that grin could do things to her, it really could, but blushing was the first thing she did.

“Maybe when I’m done. Sherlock? Somewhere private?” She nodded her head towards his bedroom. “Please?”

“I need to practice my French,” he said, speaking in French instead of English. “Help me? We can speak in French. I know you’re fluent.”

She sighed and sat across from Sebastian, looking over at Sherlock by the window. “Why did you ask Sebastian to stay with you?” she asked in French.

“So I could get to know him,” Sherlock replied. “You fancy him and I needed to make sure he was safe.”

Her blush turned brighter as her cheeks felt warmer. “I do not!”

“Don’t lie. He’s suitable for you. He won’t hurt you.”

“He doesn’t want me,” Molly said, scoffing.

“You’d be surprised.” Sherlock set his violin in its case. “I think you would pair well together.”

“Are you playing matchmaker?” Molly asked, tilting her head and avoiding Sebastian’s gaze. He was surely working on putting his gun back together and not trying to figure out what they were talking about, even if he recognized his name earlier.

“Possibly. You deserve to be happy. He doesn’t think he deserves happiness. But you would make each other happy.” Sherlock waved his hand. “He can go move into your bedroom now.”

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes!” Molly said sharply, lapsing into English again. “You’re a bastard.”

“Sexual intercourse would do you good,” Sherlock said in French, “and I imagine you imagine him while you use the toys under your bed because--”

Molly’s eyes widened. “ _HAVE YOU BEEN SNOOPING_?!?” she said in English. Then she stood, balling her hands into fists. “What I do in my bedroom, whether it’s by myself or with someone else, is none of your damn business. So what if I fantasize about him? It’s not as though he thinks about me while he--”

“I should stop that right there because this is getting to be something I don’t want Holmes thinking about.”

Both Sherlock and Molly turned to Sebastian, both looking at him with wide eyes as they took in he had spoken perfectly fluent French. “You...speak French?” Sherlock asked in English.

“Just because I speak Russian with you doesn’t mean it’s the only language I’m fluent in,” Sebastian said in English as well. “I know more than you do, probably. Part of the reason I was in the organization is I’m a polyglot.”

“Oh. My. Lord,” Molly said, almost turning white as a sheet. “You...the whole...”

Sebastian nodded. “I do, by the way.”

“You what?” Molly said.

“Think about you when I...you know.” He finally looked up from his gun. “But I won’t move into your bedroom until we’ve at least been out on enough proper dates for you to feel comfortable with the idea of an us. And Holmes? Show up while I’m there to use it as your bolt hole and I’ll boot your arse back out through a window. Understand?”

“Understood,” Sherlock said quietly as Sebastian finished assembling the gun.

“Lunch, Molly? I can come back and get my things for your guest bedroom after or I can stay here. Sherlock could use pointers in his Mandarin.”

A small smile spread on her face. “Lunch would be nice,” she said. “Thank you, Sebastian.”

“You know, you can call me Seb,” he said, flashing her a grin. “Don’t have to be formal on a date.”

She chuckled softly. “Alright, Seb.” He put the gun in an ankle holster and then stood offering her his hand. She took it and then turned to look at a still dumbstruck Sherlock. “See you later, Sherlock.” When she got no response from her friend, she squeezed Seb’s hand and they made their way downstairs and out of 221B Baker Street. This could be the start of something quite good, she realized. Quite good indeed...


End file.
